


Low Lights and Still Waters

by jenni3penny



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny
Summary: My gift in the Slibbs Secret Santa fic exchange, written for 'unglobitoazul'. A post ep for 'Musical Chairs'.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 22
Kudos: 103





	Low Lights and Still Waters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melle66](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melle66/gifts).



She notes how good Gibbs looks in the long woolen coat, exhaling softly as she surreptitiously studies him. Only half his attention is with her, all the rest rightfully given to the man at his left. Ducky is grinning ear to ear as he extols the talents of the musicians they've just enjoyed, his giddiness inescapably infectious. He's so thrilled and enthralled and she can't help but feel a blooming swell of appreciation for both of them.

The two of them in combination are the pillars that are keeping her precarious facade in balance and she smiles warmly as Leon joins their little group too, pulling on his own heavy overcoat. "Promised Kayla I'd grab dinner on my way home tonight."

"Home for the weekend?" she asks, tugging at his lapel to assist as he does his best to straighten it. She just barely catches the way Gibbs distractedly watches her friendly movement, his eyes minutely thinner than they had been before.

 _Interesting_ …

Her friend shrugs and gives up an affectionate smile, "Yeah, she's humoring Ol' Dad."

"Doctor Palmer and I are going to enjoy a nightcap - anyone else?" Ducky questions, leaning forward enough to glance past Gibbs. "Jacqueline?"

Hell, a part of her would love to have a drink or three, just to sand off her edginess, to soften how rough she feels. She knows better, though. At least, she's learned to know better, to curb her more self destructive impulses. Mostly. _Maybe_. "I appreciate the offer but I think a long walk home will do me better."

"From here? This late?" Gibbs scoffs, stiffening as he passes her a darkened look. If he's aware that he's drawn the combined attention of their friends then he doesn't for an instant show it. His eyes never leave hers, their color shaded grayer and stormier, foreboding.

It's exactly two minutes after nine by her watch, which is nowhere near late to her, or to him. They've both left work hours after, hours into the middle of the night. But it _is_ dark and chilled, and they are _far_ from walking to her Georgetown apartment.

And while what he means to say is " _Walk? Alone? In the dark_?" he's smart enough to keep his latent sense of chivalry on the subtle side.

Jack shrugs into his disbelief, acquiescence in her shoulders and the dip of her jaw. "Maybe not a walk _home_ , obviously, but - "

"I'll join you."

She just blinks stuttered surprise, looking up at him as Ducky gives off a sweet chuckle and waves them off. Mallard's already chattering on to the younger medical examiner, the two of them heading toward where the rest of the team is waiting with Kasie.

She wishes she was in the mood to join them but she just can't bring herself to want to…

Jack exhales and nods again, catching how careful Gibbs is to stay neutral as he meets her glance, no discernible judgment in his bright eyes. "Okay."

"Let's go."

***

They make a pair, long woolen coats in contrasting colors, and she's not entirely sure what offends him about her hair being tucked under her light camel collar and scarf but he near instantly loosens it free as they veer toward the waterfront. Just that movement sets her off fidgeting her fingers down her coat buttons, the simple domestic innocence of it making her hyper aware of his proximity, his heat and height.

She chances a look to her right and realizes that maybe he wasn't entirely aware of what he was doing until it had already been done. His face is still a picture of surprised confusion as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks ahead, schooling his features as quickly as possible.

Jack just falls in step beside him, rubbing her jaw against the soft cashmere warmth of her scarf as she looks out over the late night lights on the sluggish Anacostia. Quietness becomes an equally slow and simple safety between them, calm and comfortable as they lean closer toward each other, step-for-step, tipping arm-to-arm.

"I can't stop thinking about it."

"I know," he answers without inflection, just acceptance. His next step veers slightly right and she follows the movement unconsciously, leaning into him as they both aim for a small dock that bends into the water and kneels on the shoreline. The downward slant of the wooden dock puts her slightly off kilter, tipping her forward in a way that has her slowing and watching him lead.

She lifts her head a little more, enjoying the spread of his shoulders and the strength of him as he continues, finding the dock rail and leaning onto it.

Jack swallows as she slows even more, voice quiet. "I'm… _concerned_."

"Could be anything, Jack." His head angles back and it draws her nearer, his words bringing her up beside him at the railing. "Don't borrow trouble."

She just snorts as the deco-style street lamp above them flickers slightly before glowing brighter. Yellow light floods the bruised purple, brown and gray of an autumn-stained river. There are dead and crumpled leaves _everywhere_ and she's reminded that there are things she adores on the East Coast besides him and fall foliage is one of them. "You're so stoic."

"Not _my_ daughter," he murmurs, voice so low that she strains to hear him, leaning closer and flinging caution right out into the middle of the Anacostia as she tips the side of her head against his bicep. His coat is warmer under her cheek than expected and she feels him turn his head toward hers as he exhales. His breath flutters her hair and she can feel her skin go hot in response, just along the back of her neck. "Clear your head, Sloane. Gotta let it go."

"I'm scared to let her go again."

"Not her," he corrects softly. "Just that regret you're carrying. Y'gotta put it down."

She rubs her face fully into the warm woolen sleeve of his coat as she exhales and considers his advice. He's right, of course, in a blunt but gentle way. She feels his jaw shift, his head going down with hers as she presses closer.

"Just be there," he continues unexpectedly. She welcomes his words and rubs her cheek along his coat before lifting her eyes to watch his profile. She realizes suddenly how close his head is to hers, hears his breath catch at her movement before he finishes speaking. "All you can do."

The stillness of the river, the quiet and crisp coldness of the night, all of it emboldens her somehow, encourages the gentle press of her fingers and she fits her hand between his arm and his side. She smiles when he shifts and makes space, his opposite hand crossing over to tug her fingers through and wrap them against his bicep.

Jack exhales hard near the lapel of his coat, lungs heavy as her mouth nears his jaw. "I've always known it was the right thing to do but sometimes it feels like the biggest mistake I have _ever_ made."

"You gave her everything, Jack, by giving her up." He doesn't shrug as strongly as he probably otherwise would, his fingers brushing off hers as he stares out over the water. She can feel his calmness, the peaceful ease of it looping them closer together as he looks out over the water. _Hell_ , he's handsome like this, contemplative and cuddled up beside her in the late chill of a near-winter night. "Someday she'll see that."

She can only hope that he's right, that somehow he's become an expert on the distance between parents and daughters ( _Jesus Christ, Jacqueline, he has.._.).

"Maybe I should have taken them up on that drink after all," she mutters, suddenly feeling apologetic for leading him out wandering in the cold and reminding him that her daughter is still alive, grown, an accomplished adult.

"Not what you need," Gibbs snorts, voice direct and the turn of his head quicker than expected.

"No? Because you know what I need?"

"Think I'm starting to," he offers softly, smirking when that same streetlamp gives them another flicker of light, humming over them as it thrums louder, brighter, happier to have their company.

Jack smiles and shuts her eyes, purposely brushing her nose against the warmth of his cheek as he matches her grin. "I think you're right."


End file.
